Ice Age
by Shotgun Betty
Summary: A sickness wipes out 85% of the world's population. Those left are either slowly succumbing to the sickness or are immune. Isolated in the Appalachian mountains and chasing energy signatures, Darcy and Jane survive the initial onset of the epidemic. Now they must survive in the chaos left in the wake of the sickness.
1. Chapter 1

Frost covered the windows of the cabin. The sun wouldn't be up for another hour, but Darcy could already hear the animals outside beginning to stir. Her breath came out in a faint cloud as she moved into the main room of the structure, grabbing her boots from beside the door as she went. She sat going over the day's tasks in her head as she laced the worn hiking boots. They were getting low on dry staples and fuel again, which meant that she'd have to hit the town first if she wanted to get back before dark.

The cabin was quiet; the sound of Darcy's breathing the loudest thing in the small structure. Her eyes lost focus as Darcy thought about the coming day. It was too hard to think about anything much further than the present anymore. There seemed to be a general calm that had settled over the land, providing the tiniest respite. She hadn't seen any of the others for almost 3 weeks now and the lull in activity left a heavy pit of uneasiness in her gut. She had to figure out how one took care of animals in winter soon, which meant another trip to the library.

A soft rasp broke the stillness in the room pulling Darcy from her ruminating. Shaking off the lingering fog that filled her head, she grabbed a couple of logs from their stack and dropped them into the wood stove, stoking the dying coals before closing the door. Flames rose up, devouring the dried bark and tinder. Satisfied that the stove would continue to output enough heat for the main room, Darcy climbed the small ladder to the loft above. Checking on Jane was the final step in the morning routine before she started the day's work.

She and Jane had been tracking an anomaly on the East Coast when the first reports of illness made their way to national news. It started small, a group of children outside of New York City dying hours after admittance. Soon though, more cases sprung up across North America, now affecting previously healthy adults. It took close to a week before hysteria began to set in as the sickness touched more of the population. Ports of access out of North America were closed in the hopes that quarantine could be established, but by that point it was too late. The sickness has spread to Mainland China and Australia. European hospitals were overwhelmed with the number of infected within days after the first confirmed case in Asia. One in three cases throughout the world resulted in death.

Things fell apart so quickly after that. The contagion tore through the world's population. Doctors and scientists couldn't isolate possible causes or vectors fast enough to save themselves. Cities and large metropolitan hubs ground to a stop as the workforce disappeared into the ever-growing mounds of bodies waiting to be burned.  
There had been pockets of the population that were initially unaffected. Groups living in extreme isolation with little to no contact with the rest of the world appeared to weather the spread of infection fairly well. Until the sickness mutated. It was unclear if it became airborne or it jumped to the animal kingdom as a carrier, but within a month of initial contact, even the most isolated communities fell that the government had gone into secure quarantined areas fizzled after a month and no sign of governing bodies emerging from the dust to bring humanity back to order.

Jane's data had taken the two of them deep into the Appalachian mountain range, almost 30 miles from a small town close to the border of West Virginia. The epidemic had already spread throughout the country when Darcy made it into town for their bi-monthly supply run. Mr. Mayhew, who ran the town's small general store, had looked grim when Darcy entered the crowded shop. He had a tiny nine-inch TV set up on the counter, news from the local station fighting through the static. Darcy puttered around the store picking up small items that wouldn't be contained within their standing order of supplies.

Dropping her items on the counter, she pulled her ear buds out and cocked her head.

"What's up, Mr. M?" Her face mirroring Mr. Mayhew's concern.

"Nothing good, Darcy girl. Nothing good. I don't know much 'bout medicine and science, but this flu thing looks like it's gettin' serious." He rang her up distractedly, his attention still focused on the garbled news report.

Darcy popped another piece of gum into her mouth as she watched the ancient screen. The signal was fairly weak, with static breaking in every few seconds, but she could make out what sounded like the news caster advising people to avoid contact with large populations, to stay at home and call emergency services at the first sign of flu-like symptoms.

Mr. Mayhew slid the brown paper bag containing her purchases across the counter, bringing Darcy's attention back to the shop.

"Flu, huh? Is it like another bird flu outbreak?" She could remember the paranoia and mild chaos that strain had caused years ago.

"They're not saying what kind of flu this one is, but they think its just affecting people. But it's affecting a lot of people." He reached over and twisted the nob to cut power  
to the little set, "I hope us being so tucked away here in the hills means we'll be safe."

Darcy hefted the bag and walked toward the door. "Yeah, me too Mr. M. Wouldn't wanna be up here in the boondocks while civilization burns around me." she threw back over her shoulder jokingly.

Mr. Mayhew followed her outside carrying the box of supplies. Setting it down inside the rented SUV, he leaned against the edge of the car, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket to blot his brow. Patting Darcy on the shoulder after she secured the box, he pushed off and headed back into the shop.  
Darcy was climbing into the driver's side door when he paused, "You tell Jane we missed seeing her in town and you girls be careful out there. I don't know what this flu thing is bringin' but it gives me the worst kinda' feeling."

Darcy smiled back at the man, "I sure will Mr. M. I'm sure this is just one big overblown germ scare. We'll see you in a few weeks, I'll drag Jane along!" With that she closed the door and started back up the mountain to their cabin. It was the last time she'd seen Mr. Mayhew.

She hadn't thought much about the so-called epidemic back at the cabin. It had almost left her mind completely when Jane's cough started. It had seemed innocuous at first, with the seasons changing and Jane's propensity to overwork and under-sleep, Darcy had written it off as regular wear and tear. She'd forced Jane to take a day off from charts and tromping through the woods to let her body reset. Jane had grudgingly agreed to take it easy, resting in the loft that overlooked the main room of their cabin. It had been a quiet day, Jane reading and Darcy straightening up the explosion of papers all over the little cabin. Darcy even managed to get to sleep close to a reasonable hour for once, the stillness of the cabin only occasionally peppered with little coughs from Jane. It had been the harder, chest-rending coughing that pulled Darcy from sleep.

Climbing into the loft, she was dismayed to see Jane bent in two, coughs racking her slight frame. Jane had waved her off when she'd offered to drive back into town tomorrow and pick up cold medication.

"It's just a cold." Jane had assured Darcy as she tucked the woman in, adding an extra comforter to the pile. "You know how my body gets when I'm busy. It's just punishing me for depriving it of sleep and actual nutrients. I'll feel better in the morning when it's had a full cycle to repair all of the damage I wreaked."

Darcy was dubious, but what Jane said did match up with previous work marathons that had been postponed by Jane's little "recharge cycles" as she called them. She'd gone back to bed, falling into a light sleep as she listened to Jane's coughing subside slightly.

The following morning Darcy awoke to the sight of Jane hunched over her desk, a Hot Pocket clutched in her hand as the other scribbled away furiously. It had seemed like Jane was right, that it had just been her body's protest that shut her down for the day. The coughing, though still persistent, had lessened in severity. Within a few days of the Jane's initial coughing spell, they were out and trekking through the woods once more, following energy signatures and avoiding ticks.  
They were on the return portion of the day's hike when Jane fainted. Darcy rushed to her side, pulling the heavy pack off of Jane's prone form. Her skin was on fire and she had lost all color in her face. Splashing the remaining water from her water bottle in Jane's face, she frantically tried to rouse the woman. Ten tense minutes passed before Jane finally came around, bleary eyed and dizzy. Darcy shouldered the other pack and served as a support for Jane as the two made it back to the cabin.  
That night Darcy tried everything she could think of to bring down Jane's fever. It was too dark for her to attempt the winding and unfamiliar roads down the mountain and into town to see the local doctor. Darcy sat vigilant beside Jane throughout the night.

Darcy had refused to leave Jane's side for the first two days, but finally made the decision that she would go into town to try and bring the doctor back when Jane's condition hadn't improved in those two days.

The drive into town felt like an eternity as Darcy coached herself down from panic. The tenuous calm achieved by her breathing and assurances to herself that she was doing everything that she could was quickly replaced with a sick feeling of dread as she pulled into town.

The Main Street was eerily bereft of life as Darcy drove through. None of the lights were on in any of the businesses or homes. What was usually a busy area stood silent and empty. She parked the SUV in front of Mr. Mayhew's store, hoping that he would be in and could tell her what was going on.

Finding his door locked, she followed the strip of shops down to the urgent care near the edge of town. Pushing through the entrance, she choked back the wave of vomit that rose in her throat as she entered the waiting area. The room held an overpowering stench of decay and antiseptic. Looking around, it appeared that the front desk and waiting area had been abandoned. She ventured further back past the usually locked door that stood ajar. The stench and her dread increased as she moved further into the clinic.

A light was on in one of the examination rooms and she cautiously made her way to its entrance. Rounding the doorway's edge, Darcy found what she imagined had to be at least part of the smell. This time, she couldn't hold back the bile that rose and was forced to hunch over a nearby trash bin as she emptied the contents of her stomach. Darcy stood as soon as the retching stopped, looking around for something to wipe her mouth. She closed her eyes and tried to stop the shaking that had overtaken her, but it was useless. She could still see the tableau against the backs of her eyelids. Within the room a mother leaned against a father as they sat next to a gurney that presumably held their child. They were all dead, several days gone at least. It looked almost as if they'd died in their sleep, waiting for their child's condition to improve. Turning her head away from the scene within, Darcy blindly scrabbled against the door until she felt the knob and pulled it closed.

Not willing to investigate any other rooms, she made a beeline for the clinic's dispensary. Several years of chronic strep throat and bladder infections gave her a cursory knowledge of which pills would be antibiotics and what their general use was. After a few minutes of rummaging, she'd secured several varieties of antibiotic as well as gloves, a mask and the biggest thermometer rig she'd ever seen. She packed the backpack she brought with her and sprinted out of the clinic, leaving its acrid miasma behind.

That was a month and a half ago. Since then Darcy had given Jane every variety of antibiotics that she had brought back, but nothing had improved her condition. Darcy was thankful that Jane hadn't worsened, but seeing her weak, frail and in pain each day was wearing on her.

Pulling a stool up next to the bed, Darcy broke the seal on a bottle of water that sat beside the nightstand. Her hand burned where she pushed Jane's limp hair away from her forehead. Jane roused at the touch and smiled up at Darcy weakly, her eyes dim in the low light.

"Hey there boss-lady. How'd you sleep?" Darcy asked as she slid an arm under Jane's shoulders, lifting her to an angle that she could drink from. She held the bottle gingerly against Jane's lips as she took tiny sips of water. Setting the bottle aside, Darcy set about arranging Jane's pillows and retucking her in, bringing the blankets up to her chin. Jane smiled wanly as Darcy turned to leave.

Darcy picked up her pack and the rifle that lay next to it. Casting a glance up to the loft once more before setting off, Darcy caught the faintest whisper of Jane's voice.

"I love you, be careful."


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of rustling in the cabin roused Jane from her fevered sleep. Her limbs felt leaden and her thoughts sluggish. She knew that something wasn't right, but couldn't muster the strength to leave the cocoon of blankets Darcy had left her wrapped in.

Below the sound of cabinets being opened and papers rustling was followed by soft murmuring. The ladder creaked and a stockinged head peered into the loft. Fear flooded Jane's system as the intruder ventured further into the loft, nearing her position on the bed. A gloved hand passed through Jane's field of vision, waving back and forth. The figure stood over her for several more moments before descending the ladder.

Below voices filled the cabin. "We're clear. There's a body up there, but she looks gone. Fresh though, so we should probably hoof it." The voice sounded close to the ladder.

The murmurs continued as the intruders rummaged through the cabin.

"Let's round it up boys." Another voice called out.

The sound of shuffling and the closing door filled Jane with relief. They'd just been looters. They'd thought she was dead, but that had worked to her advantage. Her heart rate was slowly returning to normal and she could feel the weight of sleep pressing its way into her mind and body once more. Her last thought was of how unhappy Darcy would be when she returned to find that they'd been pillaged.

Sunlight dappled the trail as he moved up the mountain, closer to the beacon. He'd been walking for several hours now, following the narrow winding path that had to be used to scale the mountain. The GPS hanging from his shoulder strap beeped softly, the interval changing in frequency as he drew closer to the signal.

His trek had taken him almost 3/4ths of the way up the mountain when the beeps began to come every two seconds, indicating that he was essentially standing directly next to the tracking beacon. Looking around, he saw no sign of another trail or reasonably habitable space at this point on the trail. Sharp drop offs and densely packed trees made wandering from the path treacherous, even for someone with substantial experience hiking in the wilds.

He checked the GPS's screen to get an idea of exactly how close the signal was. 400 feet. Within 400 feet, supposedly there was a pack of supplies and a person subsisting from them. Something wasn't right. Pacing in a tight circle, he began to slowly comb the area. It was obvious that no people were here. There were no signs of recent movement along the trail, so there was no way to tell how long ago anyone had been here.

His second pass of the area brought him close to a small cluster of rock and matted wet leaves. The beeping had become a solid tone when he neared the clump. He toed the wet decaying mass of plant matter, looking to confirm his suspicions. There, wedged between a group of smaller tightly packed rocks he found it.

The tracking beacon had been made to look like a reflector attached to a hiking pack. The beacons were sturdy and made to withstand substantial battering, but it appeared that a cluster of small rock crevices had defeated untold dollars worth of military stress testing. Wrenching the nylon strap, he pulled the beacon out of its hiding place. If this was here then there was no telling where the Foster woman might be. He clutched the small device in his palm, annoyed to have hit yet another obstacle in his search.

Pocketing the plastic, he stared out into the valley and mountains that lay below him. A thin stream of dark smoke caught his eye, just north of his current position. Opening the GPS, he punched the command to view the beacon's location history and a cluster of green points appeared on the screen. The smoke looked to correspond to one of the points, with several others leading from his position there. Securing the GPS to his pack once more, he set off in the direction of the smoke.

The sun was close to falling behind the tops of the trees as Darcy plucked at the edge of her knit hat as she navigated the SUV into the filling station outside of town. It was a good thing that the local power grid appeared to be on some kind of autopilot. It allowed her to still use the ancient pumps at the station and kept some perishables fresh-ish. Jane had demanded that their cabin had a generator when they'd arrived. Darcy had taken to using it sparingly in favor of conserving the fuel they had. Still, the SUV needed gas after the trip down the mountain and she might as well take as much extra back as she could.

It had taken almost half an hour for Darcy to figure out how to get the power to the pumps turned on. She set the SUV to filling and went to collect the gas cans she'd found while looking for the power.

Time felt so distorted now. She would have never have guessed that the lack of human contact would affect her so much. It felt like she'd always been here, stuck on this mountain caring for Jane and hoping for some kind of miracle. But it had only been a month or so.

A month since she'd last seen any of the townspeople. Almost two since they'd heard anything from the S.H.I.E.L.D. offices. She was pretty sure it was safe to assume that even with the world in ruins, S.H.I.E.L.D. was still functioning somehow. Maybe they were even looking for Jane, hoping she'd have the key to opening up the bridge again and getting help from one of the other realms. Maybe they would pack up and head toward D.C. once Jane was feeling a little stronger.

The pump clicked off as the SUV's tank reached its limit. Once the car and all of the spare cans were filled and stowed she'd hit up Mr. Mayhew's store on the way back and pick up what supplies she could find.

The general store was still in pretty good shape thankfully. Whatever had wiped out the town's residents had hit quick and fast, so the panic she'd heard about on Mr. Mayhew's fuzzy TV set hadn't had time to spread here. There had been no hurried hoarding of supplies or desperate looting. Other than the thin layer of dust that had begun to accumulate on some of the items within, the store stood much the same as it always had.

Darcy walked the crowded little aisles today, dawdling as she let the impact of recent weeks edge its way in. The packages around her would be some of the last mass produced items for the foreseeable future. The quiet felt oppressive here, surrounded by the trappings of an everyday life now past.

Eventually, she would have to pack as much of this place as she could into the SUV, taking with them the last remnants of civilization as she and Jane moved forward in this new world. The rapidly fading light streaming through the plate glass reminded Darcy of the time and pulled her thoughts back to the present. She tossed the remaining toiletries on the shelf into her pack and left the store, locking the door behind her with keys found in the back room. Jane would probably be awake and worried about her at this point. She knew how hesitant Darcy was to navigate the roads at night. Plugging her iPod into the Auxiliary cable in the SUV, Darcy hit play on her "Forage-Fantastico" playlist and put the vehicle into drive.


	3. Chapter 3

The world shimmered and distorted before her. Acrid air filled her lungs, scorching the lining of her throat, forcing tears to well in her already irritated eyes, exacerbating the blur. Flakes swirled up in little gusts of wind, falling again in the dying sunlight. They smudged and smeared as she absently brushed at the accumulation on the tip of her nose. The cabin required attention. Darcy forced breath into her aching chest as her brain struggled to process broken scene, information flashed through her eyes, left incomplete in the space between physical absorption and her mind. Her world morphed into an alien landscape seen through a lense smeared with Vaseline.

Scared and confused bleating faded as a roar filled her ears. Her breath shuddered and sped up, matching the frenetic pace of her blood.

Control. I need control. This will not solve itself. Thoughts ghosted in and out of focus as she fought to reign in her racing mind, only to be swept away, lost in white noise and a tangle of intangible threads.

The town had been quiet for almost a month now. Back at the cabin Jane rested, leaving the foraging to Darcy. It was no bother, however. Sad as it was that the townspeople had all gone, she enjoyed the stillness. The void left in the townspeople's absence was flat, without a burgeoning sense of doom as she made her way through the husk of the town.

Surprisingly pleasurable, life continued on without constant intrusions from the world at large. Weeks passed and the internet signal grew increasingly more faint, but she'd barely taken notice. Between caring for Jane and maintaining the equipment, the luxury of time lost in endless scrolling meant very little. So long as she and Jane were healthy and secure, frivolous conveniences were unneeded. Waiting had become their new pastime. Soon enough S.H.I.E.L.D. would be back up, bustling about, surging head on into the chaos that the sickness had created. Things would be sorted soon enough.

She drummed her fingers against the SUV's steering wheel. Already having retrieved rations from Mr. Mayhew's, Darcy was left scouting around main street for any activity since the last time she'd come through. Tire tracks wound around behind a few houses, too wide for a normal car and with no obvious origin or destination. Mr. Mayhew's appeared untouched, and she dismissed any possible threats.

On her previous trip, she'd taken the rifle stored in the back room of the general store. Jane had protested until Darcy pulled a face, reminding her of the radio silence from their jackbooted-thug-backup squad. One rifle did not establish a warzone in their cabin.

Their time here on the mountain was comforting for Darcy. The earliest years of her life had been spent tucked away in a small town further south on the Appalachian trail, her grandfather caring for her as her mother struggled to complete a nursing degree and make a life for the two of them.

That dream had never panned out and the spans between her mother's visits grew more lengthy. Her grandfather had been a quiet man with a stern face, his time in Vietnam flavoring his interactions with the world for some thirty years later. From outside his parenting methods were overly strict, oppressive even.

Survival and self-reliance made up the core tenants of his way of life and as a result her own. She had blossomed under his stern guidance, learning to forage, hunt and use a rifle in the woods surrounding his home. Wildcrafting came as second nature, his thick dogeared journals and texts becoming Darcy's most treasured possessions, second only to the cardigan her mother had left behind during her final visit.

For all of his gruff mannerisms, her grandfather had loved her intensely. At day's end, when he felt satisfied that Darcy would never suffer the inability to survive singularly, as it seemed her mother did, the two of them would sit by the wood stove, an arthritic tremor seizing his hands as he struggled to teach her letters and words. The shadow of his perceived failure to send her mother into the world as a capable adult hung over him each evening. He hadn't been cut out as a parent, but had refused to let her suffer at the hands of his shortcomings. Adulthood and its accompanying strife opened understanding of his struggles as she grew. His death had left an absence, wrapping her childhood memories in a bittersweet haze. She carried the knowledge he bestowed, a monument within her mind, products of a life in the hills and a stint at war.

Ten years had passed since she'd wrapped her thin fingers around the trigger of a gun. Disappointed in her degraded skills, she'd spent hours in the clearing near the cabin until she felt confident in her skills once again. It had only been a week before the small collection of shells she'd picked up at Mr. Mayhew's was spent. Ammunition hadn't been a concern she brought the rifle home, but now was a necessary staple. The move to the cabin had been stressful and a whirlwind event, but buried within those memories was the shack she and Jane had passed, nets and decoys filling the windows.

Several days passed before she could rally the courage to venture out so far leaving Jane unattended. The hope that the shack-come-store would have useful survival necessities had cemented her resolve.

She slowed the vehicle as she broke the crest of the hill, catching sight of the shack. What was probably once a family home now sheltered a fish and game supply. Green veins of mold crept along the edges of the clapboard, eating away at the external structure. Parked sloppily, a maroon ATV stood at the bottom of porch stairs leading to the front door. Tracks lead away from the vehicle, away from Darcy's current position, turning off into the foliage after a distance.

This would be her first interaction with people since the events. A wariness filled her as she pulled the SUV over to the side of the road, just out of sight of the store. From here it was on foot. While she had no intention of threatening another, she was not naive enough to assume that strangers would have the same attitude.

The porch creaked dully as she mounted the steps. She'd taken the rifle from her shoulder and held it loosely by her side as she ventured into the darkened structure. She left the door open as she crept further, the sounds of rummaging carrying throughout still room. The shop looked as she had imagined it might; small racks displayed hunting attire and waders, camping gear lined up and displayed around the far left wall. Darcy felt like the sound of her breathing was monstrous, each breath tearing another hole in the silence.

A stack of cooking utensils crashed to the floor, just to Darcy's right, drawing her attention. The rustling stopped and a pair of sunken eyes peaked up from behind the counter at the back of the store. Darcy had the rifle to her shoulder as she stared back into the eyes. Slowly, the eyes rose and showed a thin and dirty face. A young girl stood in front of Darcy, her dull blonde hair hanging lank around her face. The girl's eyes widened to saucers as she took in Darcy and the rifle aimed in her direction.

"It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you or steal anything you've already claimed for yourself." Darcy spoke softly, lowering the rifle barrel slightly as a show that she truly meant no harm to the girl.

Darcy watched as the girl appeared to tremble slightly, still staring at the rifle, eyes wild with what Darcy could only imagine was fear. She shouldered the rifle and took a step forward, hand out in a gesture of peace. As she took another step, the girl seemed to wake from her stupor. Glancing rapidly between Darcy's form and the door behind the register. Darcy hadn't noticed it when she first came in, but she had a sinking feeling that she would not like what was hidden behind it. The door stood slightly ajar, muted sunlight casting beams on the floorboards of the main room. She was pulled from her rumination as the girl let out a loud sharp yelp.

The girl crouched low once more as she shouted the name "Eddie". A commotion from the back room heralded the arrival of a tall thin man, Eddie presumably. The man walked with a slow gait and threw his arm around the waif behind the counter. The girl flinched almost imperceptibly at the contact. The reaction was small, but Darcy caught it and tensed her muscles once more.

"What we got here Dakota? You find us another thief?" His hand tightened on the girl's shoulder as he spoke, making her wince once more, this time unhidden.

"I'm not a thief. I only came by to check and see if there were any camping supplies I could use." it was a lie, but she had no intention of revealing that she was low on ammunition.

"You own this place?" Darcy kept the rifle on her shoulder as she addressed the couple. These two were most definitely not the owners.

The corners of the man's mouth turned up into a cocksure grin, "And what if I didn't? You gonna run me outta here?" He dropped his hand from the girl's shoulder and took two steps toward Darcy.

"I'm going to need you to stay right where you are if you wouldn't mind." Darcy's tone dropping all of the gentleness she'd used previously when it was just a scared little girl. She swung the rifle back into her hands, pointing it directly at him.

He continued on his path, leaving the counter and winding his way through one of the clothing displays. She gestured with the barrel of the gun as he came closer.

"I am not kidding. If you come any closer to me I will take you down. I wouldn't be here if I knew the owners were still around, or even alive, but that's obviously not the case here, now is it?" She kept her weapon trained on his still form.

"Look sweetheart, I know this is all real scary, but you don't gotta point no gun at me. Look at me. Do I look like I would hurt you?" He shrugged his boney shoulders and tried to force a compassionate expression, but it came off as disingenuous.

"I'm not worried about if you would hurt me. I won't let you get close enough for that to happen. I'm a crack shot and at this range I'd be doing some real damage, even if I just immobilized you."

The façade dropped when she didn't obey his suggestion. His eyes looked blank now, his demeanor no longer inviting.

He rest his hand on the top of the rack as he looked her up and down, sending a shiver of disgust through Darcy. He looked just as dirty as the little girl did, if not more so. His limp scraggly hair fell from behind his ear where it had been pushed.

"I don't think you're gonna shoot me. I'd put money on it that you don't even know how to use that thing." He stepped closer once more, "A sweet little thing like you, that'd probably knock you flat on your ass if you did figure out how to use it. You want daddy to show you how? I'll be real nice to you if you're willing to be real nice to me."

Darcy didn't rise to the baiting comments. The girl in the back still hadn't moved, though she cringed when Eddie had said the bit about being nice. Judging from the pallor and cringe it was obvious that she knew what that entailed. As she shot her eyes over once more to check out the girl's position, Eddie took another two quick steps, bringing him within ten feet of Darcy.

"Look guy, if you don't want to lose a fucking kneecap, I suggest that you back the fuck up and stay there." Darcy stared him down, finger on the trigger.

She looked away and he lunged. Seeing the girl's eyes flick to her left, Darcy turned to catch him mid-movement. Her aim was unfaltering. A crack filled the room as a round lodged in the floorboards at his feet. Shock flooded his grimy countenance. Darcy smothered any emotion as she stared him down, the promise of another shot finding flesh unspoken.

"I swear to all that is fucking holy, if you do not stay the fuck there I will put you down." She relished the fear flashing in his eyes, the timbre of her voice unfamiliar to Darcy, but full of cold determination.

"Hey now girlie, there ain't much up here by way of protection, so I figured a cute thing like you would want someone to take care of her." He was holding his hands out to her, the smile from earlier back.

"I can take care of myself." Her words flowed along the line of the rifle, cutting off any further questioning.

Behind the counter, the girl shifted drawing Darcy's attention. Eddie would try again. He couldn't not; anger and arrogance governed his actions, preventing logic and caution from seeping in.

Despite the gentle ache that had built in her right hand, her finger stayed wrapped around the trigger, ready to squeeze as she spared a glance for the girl. The creaking of shifted weight announced his foolhardy decision.

A sick wet impact sounded, Darcy's eyes still glued to the girl's and a strangled cry tore from the girl's gaping mouth. Eddie lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, red blooming across the shoulder of his ragged Henley. It had been a gamble, not turning to line up the shot. It was not a clean through and through shot, the bullet most likely embedded in his shoulder tissue. Low shuddering groans filled the air around Eddie, the girl crouched beside him, tiny thin fingers probing the entry wound. At this rate he'd die of infection, judging from the amount of grime she was currently shoving into the jagged hole as she clumsily attempted to help. Bleary eyes bore into Darcy's as the girl looked up, the mixture of relief and anger confusing.

Lowering the rifle, Darcy gestured with her head to the open door behind her, "I think it might be time for you to go."

The girl clutched the moaning man as he pressed a hand against the hole in the shirt, blood seeping through his fingers.

Struggling, the girl pulled Eddie to standing, nuzzling her face against his neck. "You could have killed him you know." The accusation in her tone only served to muddle the moment. Was she being admonished for the shot or for her failure to finish him.

"Come on Eddie, we're gonna get outta here. We'll get what we need later. We gotta fix you up though." The girl urged him to rest his weight on her frail shoulders. "You can't leave me alone here."

Darcy stepped aside, allowing them to pass. Following them out, she stood on the porch, her rifle on the pair until well after the girl had loaded Eddie onto the back seat of the ATV and sped off in the direction the tracks had originated from. Confident that the threat had been eliminated, for now at least, she returned to the shop, heading straight for the back room where Eddie had been.

A large gun safe dominated the dim room, a small wooden roll top tucked away in the corner. Rummaging aside, nothing valuable lay in plain sight. Sifting through the papers and old boxes strewn about, Darcy could find no ammunition.

Several minutes of searching passed before she found a small pocket ledger, its pages worn and yellowed from use. Scratches and numbers were worn into the paper, blurring together almost illegibly. Thumbing through the book, she couldn't discern anything useful, just a jumble of digits and notes. Frustrated, she dropped the book on the desk, its pages falling open along a worn crease. Words here were smudged, like a finger had been run over them frequently.

A few moments of twiddling with the dial on the large steel door, ledger in hand, and Darcy heard the soft snick of tumblers falling into place.

"Yes!" Darcy's voice sung out as the latch gave and the door groaned open. Whoever had owned this place knew what they were doing. Ammunition filled the cavity in neat rows. A cash box and what appeared to be the store's ledger sat on the top shelf, useless now. Propping her rifle against the open door, she snagged a backpack from the front room and set to restocking.

The pack sagged as she stepped onto the porch once more, pulling the door closed behind her. She locked the door using keys found in the storeroom. It wasn't a guarantee that no one would disturb the store, but she hoped any small obstacle would help to dissuade others. She'd secured several survival necessities in the safe before she left, so even if the store was sacked, she should have a small cache waiting should she need it.

Despite the weight of the pack, she had a spring in her step as she climbed the hill to the parked SUV. Visiting the store had been successful. She'd obtained several odds and ends that they might need along the way and now they could hunt or protect themselves should the need arise. Jane would be pleased with everything that she brought back. It probably wouldn't even be necessary to bring up shooting a man. Darcy was sure that she'd gotten her point across, and the likelihood of Eddie ever finding their cabin felt slim. It would only add stress to an already worn out Jane if to tell her.

He stands just inside of the tree line, watching. One of the women stands behind the open door of an SUV, gun slung across her shoulder. It's been close to twenty minutes by his estimation and she hasn't moved. Her inaction doesn't make sense to him. This is where the beacon had led him, a smoldering wreck of a cabin where he assumes she and the other woman, the scientist, lived. Standing there while her shelter continued to burn seemed counter-intuitive. The location and safety of the other woman was unclear as well. He'd watched as part of the second floor had collapsed moments before the SUV arrived. There had been no visible human activity around the site so far as he'd seen. It was fairly certain that the other woman, Foster, was not safely hidden within the surrounding tree line.

It's not until the woman collapses beside the SUV that he moves from his vantage point. He's quiet but not stealthy in his approach, giving her ample time to recognize his presence. He can do nothing about the imposing figure he presents, emerging from the trees, fully armored and unexpected, but he has already waited longer than he should have. She's crumpled behind the open vehicle door, legs folded beneath her, staring blankly ahead. He's ready for a shot or at very least the warning of one, but only receives the continuing crackle and crunch of disintegrating wood.

He calls out a cautious "Hello" as he nears the vehicle, stopping just short of the door. A sharp crash fills the clearing as the roof falls, the weight of the charred wood no longer able to maintain structural integrity. The woman hasn't moved, her gaze fixed on the ruins behind him. It's clear to him now that the woman is in shock, her responses to external stimuli shut down. Another obstacle to mission success. He's losing daylight and he needs to confirm his target's whereabouts.

A hissed "fuck" passes his lips as he rounds the door. He moves forward and gathers the woman into his arms, pulling her to a stand. Brown eyes search her face for any acknowledgement of his presence, but find none. Glancing behind once more, he makes a decision. The woman is pliant in his hands as he guides her around the rear of the SUV and into the passenger seat. He secures her in the belt and returns to the driver's seat. The data in the cabin is destroyed and his growing fatigue pushes him to forego searching the ruins for a body tonight. His mission brief had listed the two targets as not expendable. The scientist was needed to complete and further any work that was recovered and the accompanying assistant had been identified as ideal leverage to be used in the event of any disobedience from the former. Until he had confirmation that the scientist had died in the fire and received further orders from his handlers, the assistant was mission essential.

Pulling further into the clearing, he wheeled the vehicle around, starting back down the mountain road. He would secure shelter in the neighboring town and return in the morning to confirm the suspected death of the scientist.

A frown creased his brow as he navigated the narrow road and he stole a glance at his passenger. She sat straight, staring emptily. A gnawing grew in his gut as he tried to identify the distraction he felt. An Asset did not experience empathy or doubt though he could vaguely remember when feelings had surfaced in the past, during extended periods between stasis. A flash of pain shot through his head as he probed further after the sensation causing him to swerve slightly. He stopped the SUV, the driver's side door perilously close to the dizzying drop off at the edge of the road. Panting he grit his teeth, willing the pain to stop.

Full dark had fallen by the time he could open his eyes without the sparks of fiery agony flashing behind them. He started the engine and pulled the SUV back onto the path. His thoughts warred within his head. He resented the pain that was his reward for pushing the boundary, but at the same time found himself relishing the sliver of clarity he'd wrestled away as a result. The pain was worth the knowledge and control he felt when he identified the distraction. He felt concern for the woman. Concern was not an emotion he had any real familiarity with, but the hollow sensation that pulled at his attention was strangely pleasurable. The handlers could not touch him here, could not declare the mission a wash and order a wipe.

This newfound hollowness was his.

His usually blank countenance became vaguely feral, a darkly satisfied twist working his lips into a closed-lipped smile as he continued into the night.


End file.
